


Highest Bidder

by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)



Series: Imagine Tony & Bucky [31]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Charity Auctions, Clint Is a Good Bro, Drinking, Flirting, M/M, Mutual Pining, Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 19:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3908650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/pseuds/Finely%20Honed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">Prompt: Imagine Tony being auctioned for charity at a gala and Bucky bidding hard for him against lots of rabid women till the only left is a very old lady. He win and Tony is relieved but thinks Bucky only made the bids out of pity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Now that Tony is actually single, it’s like blood in the water. The sharks are circling, man. Gives me the heeby jeebies.”</p><p>“You and me both.” Bucky ran his tongue over his teeth, smile long gone, mouth tingling from all the booze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Highest Bidder

“This doesn’t seem weird to you?”

“It’s for charity,” Steve explained between bites of a criminally large sandwich.

“Stark did it last year, too,” Clint chimed in from atop the fridge. Bucky wasn’t sure why that was the optimal spot for eating Fruit Loops, but he’d learned not to argue with Clint Logic. “He wound up getting stuck with Mrs. Crawley.”

Steve shuddered. “Appropriately named. She makes your skin crawl. She actually grabbed my ass when I walked by her table, and I wasn’t even participating!”

Clint snickered. “Didn’t she  _also_  ask how much you charged for a ride on your patriot missile?”

Bucky’s eyes widened, and Steve turned bright red. “Thanks, I’d managed to block that bit out.”

“S’what I’m here for,” Clint grinned wickedly, and drank the cereal milk from the bottom of his bowl. “Tony spent most of his date trying not to get arrested for assaulting an eighty-two year old woman hell bent on getting her money’s worth.” Clint cackled over the memory. “As far as I know, she hasn’t kicked the bucket yet, so I’m guessing he’s in for another wild ride this year.”

Bucky frowned. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

+

The gala wasn’t exactly Bucky’s cup of tea, but he cleaned up nice, and knew it. A haircut and a shave did wonders for a fella, and he’d skipped the offer of a tux and worn his Army dress uniform instead.

The trick to schmoozing was keeping a drink in your hand—this way you could prevent yourself from calling someone a stuck up moron by taking a sip. His approach also involved a lot of smiling. The more you hated a topic of conversation, or the look on a snob’s face, the more you smiled.

No surprise, his face already hurt, and he was actually feeling tipsy from the number of drinks he’d downed.

Tony had seemed both suspicious and grateful when he’d accepted the offer to attend. He tried not to read anything into that. All of them had been invited, but only he and Clint had opted to come along, hence the suspicion. Clint couldn’t give two shits about supporting their friend—he was waiting to see if Mrs. Crawley scored another date with Tony.

“There’s the old bag of bones,” he hissed, knocking his shoulder against Bucky’s. “See the predatory look in her eyes?”

And sure enough, she was watching Tony from across the room. She wasn’t the only one. Since they’d arrived, a number of the female attendees had kept an eye on Tony, and Bucky couldn’t really blame them. Tony knew how to wear a tux.

He also knew how to wear a fake smile. Bucky wondered if he could feel the strange vibe in the room, was picking up on the way he was being watched. It got his hackles up, and he polished off his drink with a frown.

“I don’t like it.”

Clint narrowed his eyes. “You keep saying that.  _Why_  don’t you like it?”

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. He’d been trying to avoid examining the why of the matter, happy enough to focus on the sense of _wrong_  and  _bad_  and  _no_  and  _mine_. The last bit there? That was the worrying bit. He hadn’t meant to think that bit.

“Just don’t.”

“Right,” Clint drawled, snagging them both fresh drinks from a waiter’s tray as they walked by. He downed his own in one go, then handed Bucky both glasses. “I gotta hit the head.”

Bucky set Clint’s empty glass on a random table, and slid through the crowd until he was at Tony’s elbow.

A desperate sounding woman with a pinched face was talking with Tony, and getting death glares from the other ladies in the group. “But you  _are_  single now, yes?”

Tony shifted subtly, discomfort radiating from him. If you knew what to look for, that was. Bucky knew, mostly because he spent a hell of a lot of time looking.

“Hey, there you are,” he said, sliding an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “Ladies, sorry to interrupt. Mind if I spirit Tony away for a moment?”

Most of them smiled politely, one or two checking him out, but the pinched faced woman looked ready to stab him in the neck with her drink stirrer. He didn’t let that dissuade him, just steered Tony away, until they were no longer in the thick of the crowd.

“Sorry, I could see how tense you were,” Bucky said, giving Tony’s shoulder a squeeze. “Figured a rescue might be in order.”

Tony kept the fake smile plastered on his face, even though his eyes were desperate. “If this wasn’t going to raise a boatload of cash for a children’s hospice,” but he didn’t finish the sentence, just grabbed Bucky’s drink and finished that instead. “It’s  _worse_ this year. I didn’t think it could be worse.”

“You’re a popular fella,” Bucky pointed out, wondering how long he could get away with keeping his hand on Tony before it became weird.

“I don’t even have Pepper to use as a human shield or an excuse this year.”

Bucky slid his fingers around to the back of Tony’s neck, and began giving him a bit of a one-handed massage.

“Hnng,” Tony groaned, eyelids fluttering momentarily. The sound went straight to Bucky’s groin. “Thanks for coming, by the way.”

Bucky grinned down at Tony, stroking his thumb down under the collar of Tony’s shirt. “My pleasure.”

“Liar,” Tony giggled. “I, ah, the uniform is a nice touch.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, that was a bit of pink creeping out from under Tony’s collar. Bucky wanted to lean over, and slide his tongue against Tony’s skin, get a taste of it. Which,  _oh_. Okay, sure, the wanting to lick Tony thing wasn’t new, not by a longshot, but he was normally in a better position to shove the intrusive thoughts aside.

Unfortunately, he was just tipsy enough that he might actually  _act_ on one of his little impulses, and considering they were standing in the middle of a crowded room, it was probably not the time or place. Only, his dick had other ideas. It was perking up, and ready to salute.

“People love the uniform,” Bucky said softly. He needed to stop touching Tony, but instead he slid his fingers into the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck, was standing close enough that his nostrils were full of the scent of him. “But that’s probably because of how good I look in it.”

Tony quirked an odd smile, his lips parting slightly as he looked up at Bucky, a bit of surprise warring with the amusement in his eyes. Bucky tilted his head, gave him a roguish smile, and wondered if Tony’s lips were as soft as they looked.

“Can’t argue with that,” Tony answered on an exhale. His body stiffened as a sound came across the PA system, and Bucky reluctantly let his hand slide away.

“Mr. Stark,” a woman with the event interrupted, “we’re about to begin.”

“That’s my cue,” Tony said. “Thanks for the, ah, interlude. Hope you enjoy the show.”

Tony let himself be led away, and Clint slid into his vacant spot, more drinks in hand. “So, how long have you and Stark been,  _you know_?”

Bucky took both drinks, polished them off smoothly. “We’re not nothing.”

“Didn’t look that way to me.”

“Yeah, well, can’t always go by looks, can you?”

“Ladies and gentlemen, get your checkbooks ready,” the announcer said, the lights in the place flickering.

Bucky tuned out the whole spiel, a little frown on his face as he and Clint watched the first few bachelors be auctioned off for tidy sums. There were obviously people attending for the right reasons—they’d be the ones without the maniacal glint in their eyes—but a subset of attendees were seemingly hellbent on getting that night with Tony.

Bucky wondered what they thought would happen on the date. That Tony would fall in love with them? More likely they were interested in his bank account and stock portfolio. Which, really,  _really_  bugged him.

“I bet Mrs. Crawley is gonna get a run for her money tonight,” Clint whispered, looking around the room. “Now that Tony is actually single, it’s like blood in the water. The sharks are circling, man. Gives me the heeby jeebies.”

“You and me both.” Bucky ran his tongue over his teeth, smile long gone, mouth tingling from all the booze.

“And now, the moment most of you have been waiting for, we have up for bid the one, the only, Tony Stark!”

Tony walked out onto the little stage, all smooth, relaxed showmanship, and Bucky’s stomach clenched.

“Let’s start the bidding at a thousand,” the auctioneer said, and then it was  _on_.

Increasingly ridiculous amounts of money were being shouted out around him, the auctioneer’s face lighting up. Bucky polished off the last of his drink, cleared his throat, and shouted, “Ten thousand.”

Half the room turned to stare, and on the stage Tony’s eyes widened. Clint was gawping beside him. “Dude, do you  _have_  ten-thousand dollars?”

“I’ll worry about that later,” Bucky hissed.

“Twelve,” someone else shouted, and the rabid women were off again. Tony was staring at him questioningly, the confusion only growing when Bucky chimed in again with, “Eighteen!”

“Fifty,” Mrs. Crawley croaked, and just like that, interested parties began dropping out of the bidding.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, but she seemed unimpressed. “Sixty.”

“One hundred thousand dollars,” she snapped, giving him a cocky little glare.

“What amazing generosity we’re witnessing tonight,” the announcer said, “One hundred thousand going once, going…”

“Five.”

Clint grabbed his arm. “Bucky, are you insane?”

“I’ll rob a bank,” he hissed, shaking Clint off.

Mrs. Crawley’s beady little eyes were watching him, and he felt like they were about to have a guns at high noon style duel. She went to open her mouth, and Bucky shook his head, put it all right there in his eyes—she might be a tough old broad, but he’d been through hell and back. He could take her.

“Five hundred thousand going once, going twice,” the room seemed to hold its collective breath, “and sold! To the, er,  _gentleman_  in uniform. Congratulations, and come meet your bachelor.”

“Tony’s gonna kill you,” Clint warned, but Bucky just headed for the stage, pausing to share a respectful nod with Mrs. Crawley.

Bucky swallowed around the sinking sensation in his gut—he had no idea where he was gonna get the money—and focused instead on the relief on Tony’s face as he strolled up, laughing when Bucky held his arm out for Tony to take.

“You’re insane,” Tony said, but he was smiling. “I mean, I appreciate it, but…” To his surprise, Tony actually took his arm. Tony sighed, and the two of them had to stop and pose for photos before he could continue. “You didn’t have to spend that much out of pity.”

“Pity?”

Tony gave a sad little nod, but he allowed himself to be led away from the crowd. Bucky ducked into a room, pulled Tony in with him, then shut the door.

“Hey, look at me,” Bucky ordered softly, and Tony did, mouth quirked in a little frown. Bucky stared down at him, licked his lips. “This ain’t pity.” Tony’s eyes widened slightly. “Though I’d appreciate it if you’ll pity  _me_  enough to let it be a real date.”

Slowly, a dirty little smile spread across Tony’s face. “Really,” he murmured. “You’re just full of surprises, Bucky Barnes.”

“Call me James,” Bucky said against Tony’s lips. They  _were_  as soft as they looked, but with the right amount of firmness behind them.

Feeling bold, he teased his tongue past Tony’s lips, got a proper taste of him, swallowed a moan of appreciation, then kept right on kissing him. Tony’s mouth was hot, the facial hair just a bit tickly, but he liked that, liked the feeling of it against his skin, loved the give and take of the kiss. He chased down Tony’s tongue, caught it with his teeth, sucked on it, hands on the sides of Tony’s face to hold him still.

“Okay, James,” Tony gasped, and when he pulled away his mouth was pink and wet. “That definitely didn’t feel like pity.”

“So, it’s a date?”

“It’s a date, soldier.”

They grinned at each other, then did some adjusting of themselves to hide the telltale bulges in their pants. This time, Bucky took Tony’s arm, let himself be led back out of the room, feeling like he was floating, a bit of swagger to his walk. 

One of the people with the charity was waiting by the door, a big smile on their face. Right. He owed them five hundred thousand dollars.

“Hey, uh, so, I didn’t  _actually_  bring a checkbook,” Bucky stammered.

Tony took one look at him, and burst out laughing.


End file.
